Falling Still
by cclarasdoctor
Summary: -Post The Name Of The Doctor- How did the Doctor and Clara cope after the events of Trenzalore? Did they recover as easily as the show led us to think?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I finished re-watching The Name of the Doctor for the 10000000th time, and I think to myself "Hmm. I wonder what the aftermath of Trenzalore was...how did Clara cope with all those memories? How did they make it out of the time stream? Here's a wild, unique, original that no one could have thought of before! I'll write a fic about that! I'll be the first one to do it, too!"**

***5 minutes later after browsing ***

**"Okay, maybe I'm not the first."**

**Oh well. I know its been like a year and a half since that episode aired, but I've got a real soft spot for Clara, and I've been writing more and more fics about her.**

**Really, this is just an excuse for some emotional whump and some fluff :) Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN DOCTOR WHO DON'T SUE ME.**

The Doctor turned away, giving his former self one last glare.

He shifted Clara's weight in his arms, staring down at her anxiously as he searched the area for that bright, lightning strike resembling light that would guide them home.

His timeline was collapsing in on itself. He had to get out now. Clara had been in there far too long, and it was already taking its toll on her body.

"Clara." He whispered, shaking her lightly but never breaking his stride. Her only reply was a pained murmur. "Hold on Clara, we're almost there. Just hold on a little longer."

Then he spotted it. The most beautiful thing he'd seen all day; their way out. He quickened his pace as much as he could bear, nearly leaping through the light. He held Clara close to him, shut his eyes tight, and waited for it to be over.

And then they were falling. With a thud he fell to the ground in a heap as they were flung out of his time stream. He let out a harsh breath as he landed on his back, Clara landing on top of him. With as much gentleness as he could, he rolled her off of him with a grunt.

Strax was at their side instantly, running his medical scanner over Clara's frail form. The beeping was erratic, causing him to grunt in frustration. "Weak humans. Hold on, boy!"

The Doctor hauled himself to her feet, anger burning like fire in his eyes. "Get out of the way!" He shouted, shoving Strax away and kneeling next to Clara. He put a hand on top of her head, kissing her forehead with closed eyes, letting his lips linger on her skin for several moments. "Its okay, Clara." When he sat up, he thrust his arms under her, lifting her up. Her head lulled against his chest, her arms and legs dangling freely from his grasp. He started for the exit, or what he hoped was the exit at least.

"Doctor, what can we do?" It was Vastra, quickly approaching him from behind.

"Just stay back." He said tiredly.

"But Doctor-"

"-STAY BACK!" His rage filled voice struck his friends hard, and they said no more.

"He's just worried." He heard Jenny whisper, and didn't think he was suppose to over hear what came next.

"He should be." Vastra spoke quietly. "There's no way she's going to survive this..."

With a final surge of anger and determination, he trudged on. Fatigue overwhelmed him, but he didn't have the time to be tired. Clara didn't have the time.

To his luck, he found his way out of the tomb with relative ease. A small blue speck in the distance he recognized instantly as the TARDIS. It was far...so far. But he had to keep moving.

The Doctor's arms burned and his head spun, but every time he heard the labored wheeze that was Clara's breathing, he found himself walking slightly faster than before. His sensitive hearing could pick up the pounding noise of her heart, as it worked harder than it should have to to try and get her through this disastrous turmoil. What she'd seen, what she'd been through, all those memories...they were building up inside her mind. It was too much for her...and it was killing her.

After what seemed to be hours, but was probably just a few minutes, they were at the front doors of the TARDIS. He squirmed a hand free and shoved the door open, inching his way in sideways.

The fear occupying his mind in that moment was that the TARDIS may be hiding the infirmary. She'd never been fond of Clara...would she really let her distaste for the girl to go as far as allowing her to die?

But against all odds, there it was. The first door to the right in the west corridor. Whether the TARDIS had moved it for Clara's sake, or just for the Doctor's sanity, he didn't care.

He immediately laid her down on the medical bed in the far corner of the room, lowering her head to the pillow. He stepped back just a minute, and put a hand over his mouth in despair as he got a good look at her. Her face was covered with dirt, and a few clean streaks were shown on her cheeks...the obvious aftermath of tears. Her face was contorted in an expected pain, and her head moved feebly from side to side. Her short dress revealed a huge, purple_ish _bruise covering her knee. _So that's why she had been limping..._ He carefully placed his hand on it, feeling about gently, but even the gentlest touch earned a small gasp from Clara. The Doctor sighed and moved his hands away, bringing his eyes to her face once again. He leaned down a bit, speaking as quietly as he could without whispering."Clara...Clara can you hear me?" He brushed her hair away from her eyes, earning a soft, incoherent murmur. "Clara?"

"Doctor..." She whispered hoarsely. Her eyelids fluttered open ever so slightly, her breathing sped up, and she stared at the Doctor with scared eyes.

"You're gonna be okay. I promise you, you are going to be okay." He put his hand softly on her head, rubbing her forehead gently with his thumb. She let out a shuddering breath at his cool touch, and closed her eyes again. "Hey, look at me." The Doctor whispered. "Look at me."

Clara complied, but the small action of keeping her eyes open seemed to be a huge effort. "So tired..." Her head lulled to the side.

"I know, I know. But I need you to stay awake for me. Just a mo. Can you do that?"

"Hurts..." She replied indirectly.

"I know. I'm so sorry." He lowered his head briefly in regret. This was because of him. She was dying, because she saved him. Again.

The Doctor raised both hands, placing them on either side of her face, his fingers slightly grazing her temples. "The memories...they're burning you up from the inside. That much information is too much for anyone to handle. I'm going to erase it. Just stay calm..." He closed his eyes in preparation, but felt her head shift away from him. "What's wrong?"

She was pulling away as much as she could manage. "No..."

"What?"

"No...I don't want to...forget."

"I'm so sorry. I have to do this." He raised his hands to her face again..

"No." She tried to squirm away from him, but he held her tight. "Please..."

"Clara, its too much for your mind to handle. It could kill you."

"I don't want to forget..." Her eyes closed again.

"Clara, please. I.."

"Could." She spoke up.

"Could?"

"You said it _could..._kill me...if I remember. It doesnt mean that it will..." She lifted her tired eyes to his, holding his gaze.

"I can't take that chance." He pleaded. "You've got to understand." But he still removed his hands.

"I'm the...Impossible Girl..." She smiled slightly, closing her eyes. "So let me be...Impossible..." And with that, exhaustion overtook her, and she was consumed by blackness. She slipped into a deep sleep, breathing finally evening out as she accepted the rest that was long overdue.

The Doctor rested his forehead on the bed, in conflict with his thoughts. He sat up, taking a brief moment to scan Clara with his screwdriver, then shaking it open to reveal the readings.

She was exhausted, bruised, injured, and trying to cope with the memories, but wasn't in any immediate danger anymore. She was strong, too. Maybe she would pull through after all...

But could he take that chance? No doubt she was in an immense amount of pain right now...both physical and emotional. The things she'd seen...it was just too much for her.

But Clara was right. She was the Impossible Girl...and oh, how impossible she was. She could do this. Still, the Doctor promised he'd do whatever necessary if it came down to it...right now, she was doing okay. But how would she cope with any long term effects?

_I'm not losing her. _He promised himself. _Not again. _

* * *

><p>The first thing that Clara noticed was that she wasn't in her own room. Neither her bedroom on the TARDIS, or her bedroom at the Maitlands looked anything like this.<p>

She was surrounded by white. White walls, white chairs, off-white_ish _cupboards, and a white bed...wait. Why was she in bed? She didn't remember going to bed last night...or anything from the previous day for that matter. What the hell happened? She told herself not to panic, but a nagging feeling in her chest told her something was wrong.

And then it hit her. Trenzalore. The Great Intelligence. The Doctor's time stream...The Doctor. Where was he? Had he made it out okay? The last thing she remembered was collapsing into his arms...after that, she had no idea.

Clara closed her eyes and pressed her palm to the side of her head. She had the worst headache she could have possible had. She rubbed at her temples, trying to alleviate some of the pain, but it just made her feel worse. She opened her eyes again, but the harsh, bright light in the room was blinding. She closed them again, propping herself up slowly on her elbows, and sat up.

She felt two cool hands on her shoulders, gently guiding her back down. "Clara..." She allowed him to lay her down again, and blinked her eyes open, squinting against the light.

"Doctor." He smiled brightly, and she couldn't resist a smile back. She sat up ever so slightly, but this time, the Doctor didn't push her back. Instead he leaned down, wrapping his long arms around her small frame, pulling her close to him and burying his face in her shoulder.

"My Clara." He held her tight. "You're okay. It's okay." He sat down on the bed and just held her for what seemed to be an eternity. An eternity that neither of them wanted to end.

"Doctor...what happened..." She muttered into his chest.

The Doctor pulled back, hands on her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. "What do you remember?"

"Nothing after Trenzalore..." She admitted quietly, then broke off. "And then you trying to erase my memories..."

"I didn't." He said quickly. "You were doing well. I was confident you'd make it through just fine while keeping them." His smile faltered, but only briefly. He cupped her cheek in one hand, rubbing his thumb softly above her eye. "How do you feel?"

"I'm okay." She told with a small sigh. "Bit of a headache."

"Bit?"

"A lot of a headache." She admitted, bringing her gaze from his. "I remember...I remember so much."

"I know." He dropped his hand, grasping hers tight.

"The Dalek Asylum, Victorian London, Gallifrey, the corridors, all those times, I remember them all. All those times I was running to save you...and I died each time." She looked into his eyes, and save him her sweetest, softest smile. "Guess it worked, then."

"Clara." He lowered his head, closing his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"What I did was my choice." She said with a confident voice that was just so...Clara. "And if I could do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing."

"But Clara, you _died. _And then you died again...and again, and again."

"Those were just echoes. Echoes of myself. None of them were truly me...but I am truly me." It was her turn to rest her palm on his cheek, smiling with eyes glimmering with affection. "And I am right here."

His hand lifted up to cover hers. He lowered it, holding the tiny appendage in between his hands and kissed her palm. "Yes you are." He gave it one final pat before standing up. "How'd you hurt your knee?" He finally asked.

"Oh." She looked down at it, twisting her leg to get a better look only to result in a wince of pain. "I don't remember...fallin' I guess."

The Doctor leaned forward, hands hovering above it until he earned a nod of permission from Clara. "Where's it hurt the most?" He asked, prodding oh so gently with his fingers.

She narrowed her eyes. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

"Not a clue!" He whipped out his sonic. Scanning her whole left leg until it gave the proper readings. "Ah, there we go...ooh. Ouch."

"What's it say?" Clara questioned anxiously. The nerve was apparent in her voice, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

"Patellar fracture. Not too bad, bit of a healing process, though. That is, unless." He spun around, digging through a few drawers, throwing various, unneeded items onto the floor, then spinning back around with a small pill in his hand. "You have this." He tossed it to her.

"And what's this?" Still, she popped it into her mouth.

"Pain killer with a few regenerative properties squeezed in. With that, plus a splint and some crutches, you'll be back up and running in just a few days." He straightened his bow-tie proudly.

"You think you're so brilliant." She teased.

"I am brilliant!" He frowned with a mock-crestfallen demeanor, which quickly turned back into an amused smile.

Minutes later they had her fitted into a proper splint and proper sized crutches. Clara put up a bit of a fight about the crutches, insisting she didn't need that much help getting around. But the Doctor, of course, talked her into it, and she accepted them.

He extended a hand. "Up you go."

With a nervous glance at the floor, Clara took his hand and slid off the bed. Her legs were weak and unstable, and the bummed knee made it all that much worse. She toppled forward, landing right in the Doctor's awaiting arms.

"Whoa, steady." He offered her an encouraging smile, easing her back up straight and handing her the crutches.

"I hate this so much." Clara muttered, fitting the uncomfortable sticks under her arms.

"Its just for a few days." He promised. "Come on, you can do it."

"Of course I can." She looked up at him defiantly. She put as much weight as she could on her good leg, extending the crutches out a bit in front of her, and taking a tentative step forward. Her arms shook something awful and shot out from under her, sending her plummeting to the ground.

The Doctor was immediately at her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and easing her back up. "It's alright. You're still pretty weak. Should've probably made you wait til tomorrow to try and use them anyways."

"If there's one thing I'm not, its weak." She said with determination, staring blankly ahead, but her confident expression soon faded.

"Its alright." He kissed the top of her head. "Come 'ere." He hauled her up into his arms.

"Oi!" She threw her arms around his neck and gaze worriedly at the floor. "I'm perfectly capable of getting around on my own."

"You will be tomorrow, but today, you're gonna settle for me." He walked out of the infirmary, shifting her weight in his arms.

Clara gave up. She relaxed a bit, letting him carry her out, finally admitting to herself that she needed help. She was strong, but she wasn't stupid. She was also beginning to notice the direction they were going.

"Why're we going back to my room?" She gave him a quizzical look.

"You're still recovering." He told her, just a hint of regret in his voice. "You need rest."

She didn't argue. She really was feeling quite tired. Being with the Doctor had given her a tiny spark of energy, but the fatigue was overwhelming. Her head pounded slightly less than earlier, but it was still consistent. With a sigh, she let her head lull against the Doctor's chest as he brought her to her room.

**A/N: I'll continue if there's enough interest :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry the update took so long. The majority of the writing I do is during class, and it takes a while to finish a 2k word chapter while trying to pretend your listening to a lecture on keeping your debate folders organized.**

**Seriously. A two hour video lecture on debate folder organization. What is wrong with this world?**

_All Clara knew was that she was falling. Plummeting down, down, further and further. She thought it would never end. Her hair flailed wildly in front of her face. Her eyes burned against the harsh light and raging wind. And her head ached with the weight of a million lives._

_And then she was landing, or at least she thought she was. She fell onto a hard, rocky surface. She was dressed entirely different, and her hair was pulled back and matted. She stood up slowly trying to take in exactly where she was. Littered streets, broken cars, and tumbling rubbish surrounded her. She jumped back in surprise as a young blonde woman dashed past her, hardly noticing her presence if at all. She was running towards a young man at remarkable speed. His wild brown hair, pin stripe suit, and excited expression was oddly familiar to Clara. He and the woman were running towards each other, eyes fixed on one another as if nothing else mattered. They were so focused, so happy, that neither of them noticed the metal monster rolling towards them._

_"Exterminate!"_

_"Doctor!" Clara found herself shouting, running towards the man, but all too late. The Dalek struck him. The woman's eyes were already filled with tears. She crouched over him, cradling his head in her hand._

_He managed one final word before a man came and carried him off._

_"Rose..."_

_Clara ran after them. "Doctor!" But they didn't even seem to hear her. She was supposed to save him...she didn't know how, or why, but she should have saved him. And she failed. Before she came even close to reaching them, she was falling again. Falling and falling, feeling as if she'd never land. But alas, she did._

_"Ex...ter...min...ate..." Was the first thing she found herself staying. She was staring into the eyes of the Doctor, and odd blueish light clouding her gaze._

_"Oswin..." He pleaded. "No."_

_"Exterminate!" There was a blinding flash of light, the Doctor let out a scream, and crumpled to the ground._

_"NO! Doctor!" She was falling again. Falling, falling, falling, falling..._

Clara sat up straight bed and let out a scream. She was panting, sweaty, and gripping the bed sheets until her knuckles went white. "Doctor!" She heard rapid footsteps, the sound getting louder and louder. The Doctor flew into the room, swinging the door open so hard it hit the wall with a loud _bang_.

As soon as he caught sight of her panic-stricken form, the Doctor made his way slowly over to her bedside. "Clara, it's all right. You're okay. It was just a nightmare." He sat down, scooting close to her. "Clara?" Her gaze was fixed straight ahead, never wavering. She didn't seem to even register his presence. The Doctor reached for her hand, but she flinched back, head snapping around in his direction as she stared at him with wide eyes.

"Doctor.." Her breathing evened out ever so slightly, and a tiny smile of relief appeared on her face. At this point, she finally got a good look at him. His hair was sticking out at several awkward angles, he wasn't wearing his jacket, his bowtie was removed and his shirt was only half tucked. Had he been sleeping?

"Hey, its all right." The Doctor looked at her with apologetic eyes and pulled her into a hug. He stroked the back of her head softly, muttering into her shoulder. "It's all right. It was just a dream. You're safe now."

"But you weren't.." A single tear fell onto his shirt. "All those times I thought I saved you, but this time I couldn't. You just kept dying and dying and-"

"Clara." He sat back, looking deep into her eyes and placing his hand on her clammy cheek. "I'm right here. I'm safe, and so are you. It's okay." He kissed her forehead and pulled her in for another hug. He sat there for several minutes, muttering soothing words and holding her close. Soon he recognized the sound of even breathing, and realised she had fallen asleep. With a soft smile of affection, he lowered her head down on to the pillow, then tucked the sheets comfortably around her.

The Doctor stepped back. He looked from Clara, to the door, and back again. Soon, his mind was made up. He pulled up a comfortable chair to Clara's bedside, and seated himself with an exhausted sigh. Within mere minutes, he was fast asleep.

* * *

><p>Clara's sleep was fitful, plagued by the nightmares of her echoed lives. Every time, the Doctor was there. Every time, he was in danger. And every single time, she failed to save him.<p>

It was several more hours until she woke up. How long she'd been asleep she didn't know, and quite frankly she didn't care.

She sat up slowly, only to end up hunching forward in pain as she clutched her head with one hand. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes with the other, letting out a soft groan. She looked to her left, expecting to see the Doctor at her side, but he was gone. She'd vaguely remembered waking up a few more times during the night, and each time, he'd been there to comfort her.

With a sigh, Clara threw the sheets off her body and cautiously swung her legs over the side of the bed. The floor was freezing against her bare feet. With her arms braced on either side of her against the bed, she stood up.

For a moment, she had forgotten all about her knee. She winced and pressed a hand against the wall, looking around for the crutches. She remembered with a scowl that they'd been left in the infirmary.

"Damn." She hobbled out of the door, practically dragging her leg behind her. But instead of heading for the console room, she stumbled in the direction of the bathroom. She looked down at the splint covering her knee, hoping with everything in her that it was okay to get wet. She hadn't had a shower, or even a change of clothes in god knows how long. It was time.

* * *

><p>"All right, old girl." The Doctor wiped his hands on his trousers. "That should keep you running for a good while." A muffled, pained sound broke into his thoughts. He spun around to see Clara, a limping, scowling Clara, hobbling into the console room towards him.<p>

"Clara? What are you doing up?" He rushed to her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her to the jump seat. With his arm pressed against her back, he felt wetness soaking through his shirt sleeve. Her hair was dripping wet. She smelled clean too...and had a change of clothes on. God he was slow. "You got a shower?"

She shook her head. "Bath. Felt gross."

"You should've called me. I could've helped you." He blushed at the light comment, and Clara couldn't resist a giggle.

"I was perfectly capable of handling it on my own, thank you very much." She straightened herself a bit. "Although, would've been easier if _someone _hadn't forgotten to get the crutches from the infirmary."

"Oi, I was a bit occupied!" He defended himself with a frown, then looked down at her soaked-through splint. "And did you think to ask me if it was okay to get that thing wet?"

"Is it?" She quirked her eyebrow with a smirk.

"Yes, of course it is! But you _still _should've asked me." He hovered a finger in front of her face angrily.

Clara laughed and just sat back in her chair. "So how long was I out."

The Doctor peered at his watch with concentration. "19 hours, 42 minutes and 37...38 seconds."

"Damn." She frowned, but only briefly. The tiniest smile flickered across her face. "Thank you."

"For what?" He asked distractedly, fiddling with the console again.

"Taking care of me." Even from behind, she could tell the Time Lord was smiling.

"Anything for you, Clara Oswald."

* * *

><p>"Okay. What the hell just happened?" The Doctor and Clara stumbled through the TARDIS doors, leaning against them from the inside and breathing heavily.<p>

"I told you we had to be fast if you wanted food from that restaurant!" He shot her a look.

"No, you said it was a _fast _food restaurant!"

"And this difference is?"

"The difference is that we took more than 30 seconds to order and an angry mob chased us out with pitchforks! That's like, something you only see in films!" Clara countered, beginning to inch her way across the room. Her underarms were terribly sore from the crutches. She was ready for a good rest.

The Doctor rolled his eyes but didn't reply. He made his way to the console in a hurry, pressing a couple buttons, fiddling with switches, and finally pulling his favorite lever, sending them spiraling off into space.

"So! Where to next? We could take a trip back to the Tiberian Spiral Galaxy again! Hedgewick's World! Of course, this time much earlier in it's time stream so that its still up and running. Spacey Zoomer!" The Doctor rambled. When he heard no reply from Clara, he went on. "Or, there's this planet that's nearly _completely _covered in trees. Each of them a different kind, collected from across the galaxies. OR we just set the coordinates to random and see where we end up. That's always a fun time and why are you being so quiet?" As if on cue, he heard the distinct sound of crutches clattering to the floor. He spun around with wide eyes. "Clara?"

Clara was hyperventilating. She leaned heavily against the wall with her gaze fixed on the floor. Her crutches were sprawled out on the floor in front of her, seemingly unneeded as no attention was fixed on her knee. She was simply concentrating on trying to catch her breath, and keeping herself from plummeting to the ground.

The Doctor rushed up to her in a few long, swift strides. "Clara! Clara what's wrong?" He leaned down until he was eye level with her, putting steadying hand on her shoulder.

She stumbled, looking as if she were about to fall. "My...my..." she panted.

He held her cheek in on hand, creasing his forehead in worry as he stroked her face with his thumb. "Clara, you're burning up." He her held face lightly in both hands. "Tell me what's wrong."

"My head..." Her breathing sped up and her eyelids fluttered closed, sending her forward unconscious into the Doctor's waiting arms.

"No...no no no...I knew I should have...oh, stupid, thick, stupid Doctor!" He gently lowered her to the floor, cradling her head in his hand. Her face was already slick with sweat and her breath was coming out in short, shallow wheezes. He quickly scanned her with his screwdriver, closing his eyes and hitting himself in the head as he read the results. "Clara..." He rested his forehead on hers. "Clara I'm so sorry. I have to do this." When he'd said those memories were burning up her mind, he'd meant it literally. The screaming echoes in her mind were putting major stress on her brain. That's what had been causing the headaches...those horrible headaches she'd kept telling him about. And now, everything was sinking in. It was becoming too much for her. This time, for real, the memories were killing her.

He could tell the pain was unbearable. That was why she'd passed out. It was too much for her already weak body to handle. The Doctor kicked himself with regret but spared no extra time.

He cupped her face with both hands, middle and ring fingers resting on her temples. "I'm sorry..." The Doctor closed his eyes and entered her mind.

What he was met with was a telepathic force, so big, so strong, it nearly sent him reeling back. With no more than a slight jerk, he recomposed himself. "Clara, please. You have to let me in." Even in her state, she knew what he was doing. "I have to take away the memories...its burning up your mind. _Burning, _Clara! Burning! I have to do this!" But he was met with another strong pulse of resistance. "Please..." He squeezed his eyes shut, digging in deeper. "I have to do this."

**A/N: Review and I'll give you a cookie :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I COULD HAVE SWORN I POSTED THIS CHAPTER IM SO SORRY**

Clara drew in several desperate gasps of air, clenching the bedsheets around her as she fretfully tried to relieve herself of at least _some _of the pain. The throbbing feeling in her head seemed to never cease. Even in her unconscious state, it was unbearable. Every now and then, she'd feel something. Something besides the pain, more of a building pressure in her brain. It didn't hurt...even if it was possible for her to be in more pain than she currently was...but came with almost a soothing effect. Telling her that someone's presence was being revealed, even though she'd somehow already known. Still, every time she felt that pressure, it was soon relieved, along with an echoing voice frantically calling her name.

That voice made its way into her dreams. She was falling again, but this time, never seemed to truly land. She was everywhere at once. Victorian London, the Asylum, Gallifrey, Cardiff, Victorian Yorkshire, and even found herself in the midst of various wars. But as soon as she would land, she'd find herself drifting away again. And if she tried to resist, it only resulted in another wave of intense pain, and the voice calling out her name again.

"Clara! Clara!" It called each time. That oddly familiar voice, trying desperately to guide her home. Clara would try to call back, but to no avail. She was only swept away deeper into the unknown.

"Clara!" Again and again. She felt a light turbulence, as if there were an earthquake. But suddenly, there was a light. A blinding light, slowly coming closer and closer. The voice was getting louder as well.

"Clara. Come back to me. Please. Just follow the light. Clara!"

And finally, she landed.

"Clara." Her eyes shot open. She gasped, breathing quickly and heavily as she tried to take in her surroundings. White. She was back in the all white room. The brightness burned her eyes, but even the small act of squinting caused her to let out an involuntary whimper of immense pain.

And then she saw him. The Doctor. Hovering at her bedside, grasping her hand in one of his while the other stroked her cheek.

His hands were remarkably cool. Clara closed her eyes, tilting her head to lean into his touch, only to result in the complete removal of his hands as he placed them on her shoulders, shaking her lightly.

"Clara. Please. I need you to stay awake." So it hadn't been an earthquake after all.

She opened her mouth to reply, onto to end up letting out a cry of pain as she clutched her head again.

"Please...please please open your eyes." He kissed her forehead, his hand dropping to grasp hers once again. "Then you can sleep as much as you want, all right?"

Her eyelids fluttered open. "Doctor..."

"That's my girl." He turned her hand palm up, curling his fingers around hers.

"It hurts..." A tear fell from the corner of her eye, her expression one of complete despair. Her big brown eyes stared up at him pleadingly, begging him to help her.

"I know. It's okay." He kissed her palm. "But I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?"

She nodded feebly.

"I need to take the memories..." It was a sign of just how awful she felt when she made no attempt to protest. "But Clara, you're blocking me out. I need you to let go. Let me into your mind. Can you do that?"

She gave him the slightest questioning look. "'M not meanin' to...block you out..."

"I know you're not, and it isn't your fault. But you still have the mindset that you don't want to let me access your memories. Just let go. Concentrate on accepting me in." He placed his fingertips on her temples, this time met with a physical resistance. She was pushing against him, seemingly trying to sit up. "Lay down, Clara. Please."

With a grunt of effort, she slowly sat up. The Doctor held her hand to keep her from falling back, and she clung to it like a lifeline. "What are you doing?" He asked.

She shifted a little so she was facing him better, looking as if she were going to fall forward any minute. The white sheets tangled around her legs were drenched and uncomfortable with sweat, and she shrugged them off. Clara slowly brought her tear stained eyes to his. "Will it...stop the nightmares?"

The Doctor's hearts twisted in pity. He didn't know how to reply. There was a chance, but even if he dug deep, he'd never be able to truly wipe the lingering echoes from her mind. She'd be plagued her whole life by fitful dreaming, and there was nothing he could do but comfort her. But maybe...that was enough.

"I don't know." He replied honestly.

Clara drew in a shuddering breath. She grabbed both his hands, guiding them up until they rested on her face. "Do it."

The Doctor solemnly nodded, placing his fingers on her temples as he dove into her subconscious. His eyes fluttered closed, as did Clara's.

"If there's anything you don't want me to see, just imagine a door, then close it. I won't see anything you don't want me to." He told her, his voice barely a whisper. Clara nodded, but didn't seem to truly register what he was saying. Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders, and soon, he had taken the full weight of her head in his hands as she had begun to slouch forward. She was so weak.

The Doctor was met with no resistance this time. He dug deeper, flowing swiftly through her mind like a fish in a stream. And then it began.

The echoes. So many echoes of herself, so many past lives, were clouding her brain and putting a massive stress on her mind. Millions of different versions of her. And she remembered them all. So that was what he started with. Barely managing to scratch the surface, but relieving her of the burden that was the memories. He would never be able to wipe them out completely, but he managed to dull them, locking them away in a part of her mind she'd never be able to find them.

Seconds passed, maybe minutes, maybe even hours. There was no way to tell. But her mind had been healed. She would be okay.

The Doctor opened his eyes with shaky gasp, lowering his hands. Clara let out a long breath, falling forward into his waiting arms.

"You're okay." The Doctor pulled her into his lap, cradling her head against his chest. "It's okay. You're okay now." One arm was wrapped around her waist, keeping her from falling off of him, while the other came up to rest on her cheek. She already felt significantly cooler, and he could tell by her relaxed features that he'd been successful. Her mind was at peace.

He ran his thumb back and forth along her forehead, rocking her briefly and kissing the top of her head before standing up. He shifted her weight ever so slightly in his arms, careful not to wake her. What she needed now, more than ever was rest.

Knowing the infirmary bed would be far too uncomfortable, he walked out. The lengthy walk down the corridor gave him gratefully excepted, precious moments with his companion. He muttered soft, comforting things to her, and even unconscious, she smiled, curling up into his chest.

The Doctor, too, was finally at peace. No longer worried, no longer fretful, simply confident that she was okay. He was content, because so was she.

Within minutes they arrived in her bedroom. He walked to her bedside, lowering her gently on top of the tick duvet. He retrieved a soft blanket from under the bed, flicking it out and draping it over her.

The Doctor sat down, grabbing her hand. Her fingers tightened around his subconsciously, and he kissed her knuckles in reply. Next thing he knew, Clara was shifting onto her side, and her eyes slowly opened. She smiled when the first thing she saw was him.

"Hey." He greeted her quietly. Despite the nagging thought in the back of his mind telling him no, telling him to walk away before he made a mistake, he laid down next to her, one hand resting under his head as he turned to face her.

"Hey." Their faces were just inches apart. "You did it then."

"Yeah? How do you feel?"

"So much better." Her hand escaped from beneath the blanket, coming up to rest on the side of his face. "Thank you."

The Doctor smiled, covering her hand with his own. "Thank _you._"

Neither of them knew how or when it had happened, but suddenly their faces were even closer to each other. They could feel each other's hot breath on their skin, but the intimacy didn't seem to bother them.

"Clara..." The Doctor began. But now their noses were touching. They gazed deep into each other's eyes.

"Doctor." And then their lips met.

The Doctor felt so different. It was so different than the last time they'd kissed, when she was Clara Oswin Oswald, a barmaid/governess in the heart of Victorian London. He didn't resist. He didn't even blush. Just kissed back with a strong passion, filled with love, not regret.

Clara ran a hand affectionately through his hair, finally breaking the kiss to catch her breath. "I love you." She said almost hesitantly.

The Doctor knew it was wrong. Knew with everything in him. But not even that everything was enough to keep him from what he said next. "I love you too."

Their hands met, fingers intertwining. Within minutes, they were asleep in each other's arms.

Their minds screamed _no._

But their hearts screamed _yes._


End file.
